Taken
by WhisperMaw
Summary: What are you supposed to do, when the enemy is inside of you?
1. Chapter 1

"What are they doing?" asked Jimmy. He was gazing through the night vision scope of a law enforcement issued Mossberg 500 equipped with a suppressor for stealth.

"I don't know," whispered his older companion, Ben, in reply. "There's no Mechs with them."

"That's weird," breathed the younger of the two.

"The one with the Red Eye creeps me out," said Ben peering out at the set of three, despicable, monsters wandering up ahead.

Jimmy nodded in agreement and slid the pump handle on his gun back, releasing the used shell. He pulled out a small gold and black cartridge and loaded it into the chamber of the shotgun.

"Is that one of the Berserker's Dragon's Breath rounds?" Ben asked with wide eyes.

"Yeah," Jimmy answered, looking down to make sure he'd slid the round in correctly. "Boasting the crown of pyrotechnics; bye, bye buckshot, hello flamethrower and I've got two of 'em." The armed boy pushed the pump handle forward with a satisfying click.

"Let's toast some cockroaches," Ben grinned. Jimmy gave a nod and a quick, excited smile.

"Yeah, ok." The sandy haired teen cleared his throat and, almost immediately, caught the intruders' attention. Ducking their heads even lower behind the fallen branch, they peaked out from between the dead log's appendages. As they drew nearer he held up a hand to his partner. "Wait for it," he said quietly. "Wait for it," the volume of his voice elevated at the aliens drew nearer. "NOW!" he shouted

Jimmy jumped up and pulled the trigger sending a wall of inferno toward the first Skitter. He spun on his heel and shot again, sending another wave of flame to descend upon the second.

Ben leapt over the dead tree and charged the remaining beast, knife in hand. It snarled and spread its gnarly hands wide as if to say, "I can take you!" The Red-Eyed Skitter caught the middle Mason by the wrists and forced him to the leaf coated, forest floor. Ben's eyes widened as he stared up at the imposter.

Seeing how the Skitter attacked Ben, Jimmy felt his heart leap into his throat. In a panic he reloaded his gun with regular buckshot and took aim. The shot whizzed through the air and, like some sort of super bug, the Skitter dodged the bullet with ease. Out of ammo, Jimmy charged the Red Eyes, gun raised with intentions of beating it as a last resort. Without even blinking an eye it tore the gun from the young boy's hand and threw it to the ground before shoving him twenty feet into an old oak. Bashing the back of his head into its trunk, Jimmy let out an almost inaudible grunt before crumpling to the ground at the tree's roots.

"Jimmy!" Ben screamed; horrified as he whipped his head around, watching his best friend's body make the hard impact. Though the beast had been momentarily distracted by the other boy it turned back to Ben with an unfinished business look in its eye.

Ben scrambled to his feet, dagger still in hand, and now an urge to get revenge for Jimmy. He charged the Skitter, but it couldn't have been more ready. Having barely made contact with the boy, something in him changed at the Skitter's touch. His body relaxed and he slowly lowered his blade. A blank stare came over his eyes and his mouth hung wide. The area around him took on an ominous, luminescent blue glow as the spikes in his back lit up.

Oblivious to the thuds of the approaching Mech, Ben watched, but didn't really _see_, as it shot a harmless blue ray at Jimmy's already unconscious body. Ensuring sedation, Ben would assume later, when he had regained his own psyche.

The thing continued to chortle and click, an intangible hand anchoring Ben to the spot. When the Skitter released him and his spikes dimmed he fell to his knees, the Mech had scooped a motionless Jimmy into its metallic arms. Still unable to absorb his surroundings, Ben remained frozen in place to watch as one of the few people he trusted was taken away. Without taking its eyes off of him, the Red Eye scampered away, following the fading thumps of the retreating Mech deep into the woods.

The moment the Skitter was out of earshot Ben snapped the rest of the way out of his trance. A ghost of a memory reminded him the Jimmy was gone but the desperate boy couldn't quite believe it; not his best friend, not now. He got to his feet in slow disbelief and sauntered to the trunk of the tree. All that had been left behind was a pool of blood.

"No!" Ben shouted; a panicked tear dropped off his cheek. Maybe if he got back quick enough to the 2nd Mass they'd go after him. He sprinted back to camp and the moment he was close enough to be heard began to scream for help. Lourdes was the first to respond. She came running down the steps of the med bus.

"Ben," she murmured, standing directly in front of him with a hand on either one of his shoulders. "Calm down."

"No!" he retorted with frustration. "Jimmy! They took Jimmy!"

By that time Weaver and Tom; captains of the 2nd Massachusetts resistance, as well as Ben's older brother, Hal, emerged from one of the tents and jogged toward the commotion.

"What happened, Son?" asked Tom; his head cocked with concern.

"Jimmy," Ben repeated. His face began to contort with tears. "They took him,"

Weaver's eyes widened at the mention of his surrogate son. "Who took him?"

"The Skitters, we were o—

Weaver cut him off. "Wait a minute," his voice returned to its usual gruff authority. "What in hell were you two doing out there, Ben?"

"H-hunting Skitters," Ben replied, panting. He was staring at his feet.

"Hunting? Is that what you two were doing when you found Dad last night?" The eldest Mason asked with crossed arms.

"What were you and Jimmy doing hunting Skitters, Ben?" Tom's eyes narrowed as he glared at his son. Obviously retained anger bubbled behind the quiet words.

Ben replied, brow furrowed, breathless and defensive. He looked up at his father and it was clear that he was not fully there. "Put spikes in my back, killed Mom, killed everyone! I need a reason?"

"Like we don't see enough combat that you have to go out _looking_ for it?" Weaver asked. He gave Ben a look of skeptical disgust.

"'Till every last one of those things is dead…yes." Ben finished completely out of breath.

Tom and Weaver made a frightened eye contact that said a million words. "Hal, take your brother back to the tent," said Tom, unable to look at his middle child.

"No, I'm not going back to the tent. We have to go get Jimmy. We _have_ to get people to help us find Jimmy!" The panicked air about Ben had all but dissipated.

"You can't go around camp looking like that," Tom explained in an elevated tone. "Go change first." His words were final as he managed a meaningful stare at his son.

Ben took off towards the tent; couldn't waste a minute longer. Jimmy could be killed, or tortured, or worst of all: harnessed.

"Ben, hold up!" Hal called after his younger brother.

"No, we've got to hurry," Ben mumbled without even looking back.

"Ben!" Hal called again. This time he stopped in hopes that his brother would too. The sandy haired Mason whipped around on his heel.

"Every minute that I waste trying to explain, is another minute that Jimmy is _not_ here. We have to go get him. Aren't you going to _help_ me?" Ben stared at his brother and his face fell as his elder gave a slight shake of his head and held up his hands.

"Look, Ben," he started slowly. "We're going to get him back, but going in with our 'guns half-cocked' as Weaver would say isn't going to do us any good. We have to retreat, regroup, return, and then when we're ready…" Hal waited for Ben to finish the phrase that had become their father's tag line.

"Revenge."

"Exactly," said Hal, lowering his hands. "We'll get him back, bro. Now let's go get you cleaned up, then we'll find Dad and Weaver, and we'll figure out a plan."

Ben nodded in agreement and allowed his brother to fall into step with him as they headed, together, back to the tent. Suddenly, feeling the exhaustion of the night's events catching up with him Ben, nearly against his will, ended up sound asleep in his cot.


	2. Chapter 2

Ben awoke feeling disoriented, the previous night's events taking a moment to sink in. He cringed at the memory of his best friend's body flying toward that old oak tree like a rag doll. Realizing that Jimmy's fate was no longer any different from his own, he allowed his head to sink into his hands. When they found him, he wasn't going to be the same Jimmy Boland, not a chance in hell. He was never going to be able to understand 'normal' again. And that was if they found him, which Ben knew wasn't very likely. All he had to hold on to was hope, and so he clung to it as he forced himself out of his cot and into his black tee-shirt and jeans.

Leaving the tent, he headed toward the makeshift mess hall. He took a seat but didn't pick up a plate or anything else for that matter. The sandy haired teen couldn't bring himself to eat even if he'd wanted to, not after all the trouble he had caused. So he simply sat down at a table alone, trying to keep a low profile and not turn any heads. Already he was failing; he could feel his brother's eyes boring into his back like daggers.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Ben asked of his older brother, unable to take the patronization.

"I'm not staring," Hal answered slowly, holding up his hands in a motion of surrender.

"Yeah," Ben replied dryly, "You are. Got something to say?"

"Yeah I do," the dark-haired Mason seemed to have made the decision that erring on the side of caution was doing nothing to help his little brother.

"Easy now boys," said Weaver, looking up from his own breakfast. Hal held his younger sibling's gaze a moment longer before standing up and leaving the table.

"I'm gonna get some coffee," he said to no one in particular, grabbing his mug. Maggie followed him to the thermos that held the hot beverage.

"You okay?" she asked him. Any regular kid would've been unable to hear the conversation. Ben however, was no regular teen. His time with the Skitters had given him ears like a bat's, along with other talents, some of which he hadn't even discovered yet.

"Me? I'm fine. It's Ben I don't get." The boy in question winced a little at the mention of his name. He was beating himself enough! He didn't need his older brother's help. Hal continued. "What was he thinking? He put the whole 2nd Mass at risk." He took a sip of his coffee and shook his head slightly.

"Yeah, well, if they followed him back to the airport I'm sure we'd know by now." Maggie said soothingly, being the voice of reason.

"Oh, you're making excuses for him?" Hal lowered his voice even further, but it didn't make a difference. Ben still heard him loud and clear, word for word.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm just saying…" Maggie paused and took a deep breath. "Ben's in a world of pain right now and mad dogging him like that is not gonna solve the problem," the blonde explained. Ben took in what she'd said and realized how true it was. "Give him some slack." Hal took another sip of coffee as Maggie went on. "Give yourself some slack."

Just then, Tom Mason came up behind his eldest son's scouting partner. "Any news?" he asked.

"Ben hasn't really said much," Hal replied. Not that he'd really tried, but he was supposed to be retrieving as much information relating to Jimmy's disappearance as possible and since Ben had been the only one there, he was their best bet.

"We ran into a Skitter patrol, but they were heading the other direction," Tom said as he walked a couple of steps past his middle son to Captain Weaver. "I think we're safe," he concluded.

"Yes," Weaver replied gruffly, "But for how long?"

Tom didn't respond, but turned to Ben instead. He held out a square object attached to a ripped piece of cloth. The boy stuck his hand out to take it and felt his heart lurch as he realized what it was. "The compass," Tom supplied, unnecessarily. "Give it to Jimmy when we get him back?"

Ben gripped it tightly and found himself smiling at the memories the compass held, until he remembered all of the baggage that it now came with. He absent-mindedly tapped it against his head, contemplating all of the mistakes he'd made of late. Hal was right. What had he been thinking? Ben stood up and left the table as Dr. Glass approached. Maybe it would have been better if Jimmy had just gotten killed. Then he wouldn't feel like he had entirely, single handedly, ruined the rest of the kid's life.

Unable to handle seeing anybody else, especially when they looked at him with such accusing eyes, Ben headed off to the place where he knew he could be alone: the exact spot where Jimmy had been taken. Sitting on top of the log that he'd been hiding behind just one night before, Ben shut his eyes and allowed the awful thoughts to play over and over like a movie in his head. Minutes turned into hours, but he had no idea. It felt good just sitting by himself. So good that time had become a foreign concept to him. He didn't even notice the temperature beginning to drop from its already cold state and the sky darkening as the sun set. A familiar rumble brought him out of his stupor. Though he hadn't heard it in a while, he recognized the sound enough to instinctively look to the sky. It wasn't like the consistent whir of the alien's high tech beamers, but something completely different. A small red airplane was zooming oddly close to the ground and heading straight toward the airport where the 2nd Mass was holding up camp. Ben scrambled to his feet. Who knew what kind of thing was inside of that plane? How were they flying with all the beamers around? How had they not been shot down? Maybe they could help him find Jimmy? They could be bringing word of hope.

A huge crowd of people had already gathered around the bright red machine. A blonde girl who reminded Ben of a slightly sunnier and older version of Maggie emerged. Weaver had immediately begun to question her. Though Ben was unable to catch all of the conversation—there was too much chatter going on among the congregation—he was able to gather that she'd come looking for the 2nd Mass. Apparently she was from somewhere in South Carolina and she was in search of survivors. Most promising of all the things she said, however, was the news of a centralized government. Ben knew that this could mean great things for the human race if it wasn't a trap. He also knew it meant leaving any chance of finding his best friend far behind. Of course, either way he knew they would be leaving the airport. Weaver had plans to head north. This was just another bump in the never ending road of problems. Any faith Ben had been holding out for Jimmy was shrinking by the second. Time wasn't on his side in the slightest.

As usual, he took off. His presence had been noticed and people were starting their typical whispers and unsure glances. He was headed for the med bus to grab disinfectant for the cut above his brow, as well as peace and quiet. Fifteen minutes passed as the confused teen sat alone, fiddling with Jimmy's compass, fifteen minutes he had been left to yet again run the previous night through his mind as well as all of the times he had spent with his best friend. Silence was finally broken when his father clunked up the bus's stairs and back to stand behind his son.

"Where'd you go?" the concerned father asked, skipping the formalities of a hello.

"Nowhere," Ben answered without looking up. "Just walking around, staring at Jimmy's compass. A few months back, he got separated from the 2nd Mass. It took two days to find him again, so Weaver gave him this compass, so that he could always find his way home. How is he supposed to find his way home now, Dad?"

"Don't blame yourself for this," Tom said quickly.

"Everyone else does," the boy replied quietly.

"That's not true."

"I see the way everyone looks at me," Ben finally looked up at his father; his eyes were glazing over with tears that weren't quite ready to fall. "Hal, Matt, even you."

"No,' the father's brow furrowed in sympathy.

"Fine. Whatever. But don't think I wouldn't trade places with him in an instant. He shouldn't have to go through what I have."

"I'm sure that you would," Tom answered quietly, staring down at his son, in pain along with him. "Just like there isn't a day goes by that I don't wish and pray that your mother was still alive and, uh," he paused, "it sucks, really sucks. Sometimes you think that you can't go on. Except, you don't have a choice but to go on. And the good news is: we've got each other to get through a lousy situation. The bad news is…" he stopped again and looked down expectantly at his son.

"It's a lousy situation," they muttered in unison.

"Alright," said Tom. "You should start packing up for the move. I think Weaver's gonna have us heading for Charleston instead of the Catskills. He called me to a meeting earlier to talk about it." Ben nodded but didn't move. He watched as his father left the Med bus and waited a little while longer before leaving himself.

It took him no longer than thirty minutes to pack up his bag and realize that he had left Jimmy's compass sitting in the med bus. It took him even less than that to realize that it wasn't in there at all.

"Have you packed?" Ben heard his father's voice from behind him. "I got the official order. We're leaving for Charleston after a final sweep for Jimmy."

"Yeah," Ben mumbled in reply, digging through Anne's drawers full of medical supplies for the third time.

"What's wrong?"

"Jimmy's compass," Ben replied, holding his hand to his mouth and searching the Med bus with his eyes one last time before accepting that it, like Jimmy, was gone. "It's gone." The boy, recognizing the knowing look on his father's face, relaxed a little. "What?" he asked.

"I think I know where it is," Tom explained.

"Where?"

"Pope."

The teen gave a slight nod of his head, knowing exactly what his dad meant. He moved aside as his father pushed passed him and left the med bus close behind him, though he had no intention of following him.

When Ben awoke from the few dreadful hours of sleep he had gotten he headed for the playground less than a click away from the airport. He and Jimmy had hung out around there a couple of times since they'd gotten to the hanger. Those Dragon's Breath rounds weren't the only thing Jimmy had been able to swipe from the Berserkers. He'd managed to get a hold of a couple of Pope's six packs as well. When it got down to it, the two boys were nothing more than teenagers. They'd wanted to be reckless, break the law, rebel against authority. He couldn't help the smile that came to his face as he remembered the nights that they had spent, hardly sober, ranting about the way things had been before.

He kicked an empty beer can and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Taking a seat on one of the swings he pumped his legs and allowed the cool, winter wind to blow through his hair. A slightly bow legged man swaggered up and joined the teenager.

"You know you're no good at staying put?" said the man's gruff voice. When the boy didn't respond, Weaver continued. "He was like my son, Ben. We're going to get him back."

"How do you know?" asked the hurting teen as he looked up at his commanding officer.

"I don't," answered Weaver's weather-worn voice. "But I do know that he's one hell of a kid and he won't go down without a fight."

"Once you're with them…it doesn't really matter if you're a fighter or not."

"Be that as it may, I need you to promise me that something like this will never happen again."

"Yes, sir." Ben mumbled.

"You are aware that both you and Jimmy disobeyed direct orders?" Weaver chastised.

"I know," Ben's voice was barely above a whisper.

"If it happens again…" the captain's voice trailed off. "Your dad got the compass back from Pope." He pulled the object out of his inside jacket pocket and held it out to Ben.

"No," Ben said shaking his head. "It's yours."

"Jimmy's." Weaver corrected.

"He'd want you to have it until he gets back."

Weaver nodded."My father gave me this when I was Eagle Scout," he said turning it over in his hands. "I always meant to give it to my daughter, Jeanne, but I never got a chance. Thanks."

"Yeah," the teen shook his head with his eyes downcast. "It sure came in handy for Jimmy."

"That it did," replied Weaver. "He's a good soldier, that boy, but he has no sense of direction."

"No, sir, he does not." Ben smiled despite himself before his face went grim again. "Do you think he'll find his way back to us?"

"He found his way home once before. I'm sure he will again. Head back to camp, Ben. We'll be leaving for Charleston by night fall."

The teenager got up from the swing but froze once he'd left the mulched area of the playground. Weaver turned back and looked at him.

"Ben?" he took a step towards the teenager, whose lower lip had begun to tremble.

"I-I'm sorry," his voice was shaky as he broke down for the first time since the events of the other night.

"There's nothing to be sorry about, son." Before Weaver could do anything to stop him, Ben had lowered his wet-with-tears face into his commander's chest. "We're going to be fine," he said as he awkwardly wrapped his arms around the teenager.

"I'm sorry," the boy repeated.

"I've got to get back to camp," Weaver said taking Ben by the shoulders and pushing him back. He looked the boy right in the eye. "We're going to be fine. Alright? We're going to be fine."

Something told Ben to stay behind as Weaver left for the airport to make sure everything was packed and ready. As night began to fall a greenish-brown terror with one red eye emerged from the wooded area surrounding the playground. He felt the air being forced out of his lungs and he was pushed onto his back by the slimy hands of the Skitter as the static in his head became unbearably loud. Just as it had the night before, a tingling in the back of his neck told him that his spikes were doing something abnormal as the ground took on a strange bluish glow.

A flash of color dashed in front of Ben's eyes, followed by another and then another; painting a blurred image. A boy with frighteningly crystal blue eyes lay, face down, arms and legs strapped to a table. His face was contorting and blood was dripping down the right side of his cheek.

"Help me," the voice murmured, all strength gone out of it. "Somebody? Ben?"

The grip on Ben's subconscious tightened as he watched a sluggish, leech-like creature slither onto Jimmy's back. A single tear fell from the young boy's eye as the Harness dug its needle sharp claws into his back. The image gradually faded away, as did the wound on the back of Jimmy's head, the harnesses effects already taking hold. Then it all went dark and nothing but black surrounded him. A voice filled the void, though it did not speak a word, somehow it had managed to break the silence and communicate.

"I had to do it," the creature whispered. Ben could understand the alien. He couldn't see and he couldn't hear but it was as though the beast was inside of him; thinking for him. "It was the only way. They need to trust in us, though we do not trust in them. A minute tribe of my kind is not as susceptible to the effects of the harness. I need you to understand that I mean you no harm, Benjamin Mason. I wish to help your cause. We have come to believe that your race's resistance is our most plausible chance of survival. Help us and we will help you."

The crawler released its grip on Ben's mind and sight returned slowly to the teenage boy. He gasped in deep breaths of air as he watched the Skitter disappear into the coverage of the forest.

"Ben!" called the familiar voice of his older brother. "You out here?"

"I'm over here." he replied mindlessly.

19 minutes agoThe rumble of Hal's bike drew nearer as the older teenager approached his little brother. Distress was evident on the younger boy's face as Hal drew up beside him. He looked at Ben quizzically. "You alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine," he lied and nodded his head slightly, though it was clear he was far from alright. "Let's go." He took one final look around the playground and into the woods that the red-eyed Skitter had escaped into before climbing onto the back of his brother's motorcycle.

**AN: I'm so sorry guys for the long update time! I'm currently writing two other stories and they can be quite distracting. I would like to give a huge shout out to Ebi Pers for editing this for me. I can guarantee you that it wasn't half as good as it is now before he took a look at it for me. Hope you've enjoyed this chapter. We head to harnessing facilities next time. What fun!**


	3. Chapter 3

"I've heard his brother say he was a total nerd before."

"Really?"

"Yeah!"

"No way! Ben Mason?"

"The one and only. Apparently he used to, like, sit around all day with a book in his hand."

"Well, damn. He doesn't anymore. If he didn't have those nasty ass barbs in his back…"

"And if he didn't act like a freaking weirdo all of the time…"

"He'd be pretty damn hot. I mean have you seen his abs?"

"Yeah, I was with you that one time. He cut his back or whatever and forgot about…well you know, and he, like, took his shirt off. So hot."

"Anyways, he's smart and ripped," the girl released a sigh. "Too bad he's a total psychopath."

Ben flinched at the word. He'd been listening to two of the girls in the Mass who were close to his age for a little over thirty minutes but he hadn't really started paying attention until the mention of his name. His stomach was twisting slightly and his cheeks had warmed.

"_Too bad he's a total psychopath."_

The girl's words echoed in his head again, snapping him back into reality. Yeah, too bad he was crazy. Before the slimeballs from hell had invaded Ben had been layers of baby fat and math problems hidden behind strands of mousey brown hair and classic literature. Now he was covered in heavy sheets of thick sinew and muscle with metal-like barbs standing between him and any possibility of normality.

He'd gotten close once; with Jimmy. Even that had been yanked hard and fast away from him.

"Is he…"

"Staring? Yeah."

"So frickin' weird."

The two gave him one more reproachful look before pushing themselves up and away from their lunch at the metal card table outside the Mass's makeshift kitchen.

Ben startled and opened his mouth to explain before shutting it and realized it was no use. They were as convinced as he was about his normalcy. He mumbled an apology but he knew they were too far away to hear and returned to pushing his food around the tin plate in front of him.

From a distance he could hear the heavy footed thumps of his brother approaching. Almost instinctively, his eyes rolled back in his head. What could he have possibly done wrong this time? He hadn't left the premise since Weaver had last sent him on a scout with Dai and Anthony. That had been almost a week ago. No way Hal just wanted to talk, he never did. And when he did, he went to Maggie. Never Ben. No, the only reason Hal would be coming for him would be if Weaver had assigned them to go and do something.

"Ben!" his brother shouted though he might have well as whispered for all his little brother would have cared. He would have been heard either way. The younger Mason bit back his snappy response.

"What?" he slipped out quietly.

"Weaver," he began but Ben tuned out after scouting mission. It was all the same as it always was. When Jimmy was around, before Ben had managed to screw the younger teenager into servitude with the Skitters, he and Ben had such good chemistry neither would have had to say a word for the other to understand the meaning of what they were trying to say.

Check out the safest route to Charleston. It would be simple. They didn't have to do anything except keep a low profile because if anything struck either boy as out of the ordinary they'd be avoiding it later. Ben already knew which areas to avoid, he could hear them late at night when he was as close as he got to asleep; that halfway state between lucidity and dreams. He didn't say a word of his prior knowledge to his brother. The oldest Mason sibling already was having trouble adjusting to Ben's new skillset; there was no point in making it more difficult.

"When are we supposed to leave?" Ben asked softly. Nostalgia jabbed at his chest for the days it had been Jimmy, not Hal.

"Uh," Hal narrowed his eyes and glanced up at the sunlight, pretending that he could estimate the time of day that way. Ben knew he bloody well couldn't. "Now," he replied finally.

Ben inhaled slightly, shrugging his shoulders up toward his ears. He mumbled something indistinct about picking up his rifle from their tent and Hal gave him a accusing once over, as if chastising him for not having his weapon with him. Ben suppressed the biting words that bubbled up inside his chest for the second time that day.

They mounted their bikes without a word after Ben had returned with his gun slung over his back. Hal started his slightly ahead of Ben and the shuddering echo of the bikes caused Ben's hypersensitive hearing to squeal momentarily with a high pitched ring. His eyes squelched shut but only for a second. Not long enough for anyone, especially Hal who hardly paid attention anyways, to notice.

Hal lead his sibling through a series of back allies. For the most part the trip went without a hitch. When they ran into a relatively large piece of shrapnel blocking one of the allies Hal got off of his bike and attempted to move it himself before finally looking, begrudgingly, to Ben for help.

Once they were within a half mile of the warehouse Ben could feel the thoughts of the skitters pulsating from the back of his neck down his spine. He clenched his jaw and did his best to ignore to intrusive strumming as it spread from his back and into his head.

Hal stopped. Ben stopped just short of him, ensuring that his brother wouldn't be able to see the battle waging itself behind his pained sage orbs. The elder glanced back at his brother but Ben deflected the dark eyes boring themselves into the top of his head and licked his chapping lips.

"You alright?" Hal called back to him half-heartedly, knowing full well the question was all but rhetoric when directed at Ben. He grumbled back an indistinguishable affirmation before engaging the kick stand on his dirt bike.

Hal strode forward leaving the bikes behind and Ben followed close behind. He stopped and crouched; hidden by a half shredded, broken down car from the enemy ahead and pulled out the map that Weaver had given him to record enemy activity. Ben squinted his eyes partly due to the glare of the late autumn sun and partly due to the pounding migraine growing in his head.

The pounding of Mechs pierced the armor of silence Ben had erected between him and his brother as they streamed out of an oddly well kempt warehouse directly in front of the boy.

"See that steam," Hal finally murmured cautiously, throwing his eyes up toward the slender smokestacks of the white and green building, "the lights are on, building's got power." He looked to Ben, expectant of an explanation. He glared up at the circling Mech, ignoring the question or otherwise believing it needn't an answer. Hal unfolded the map and Ben winced at the noise the crinkling paper made, knowing that if anything had been listening, they had heard. "Well whatever they're doing in there, it's none of our concern. Orders were to find the safest way to Charleston which means we'll steer wide around this place." Ben fought the urge to roll his eyes as Hal reiterated what he already knew. After marking something down on the map, he folded the paper up and began to stuff it back into his pack. The dark featured teen then turned his attention his younger brother. "You've been quiet lately," he noted.

"Nothing to say," Ben breathed out without batting an eye or looking over to his brother. Though he'd done his best to keep the bite out, the bitterness was clear.

"You eat by yourself, you barely sleep," Hal rattled off the abnormalities as one would the times tables of two. Ben felt the steady growth of his anger rising up from the pit of his gut and did his best to bite it back. "It's like you're a different person."

At that he found his knuckles tightening and his fingers curling up into the palm of his hand so fast and hard they bit through the fingerless gloves that adorned them. If he had a skitter kill for every time his brother or one of the other Masons had said those words the aliens would have lost months ago. Every time it was brought up Ben's frustration grew. Like it made so little sense he'd rather be killing the assholes that had ruined his life than be sitting on his ass reading some book by some guy that was more than likely dead? Was it such a freaky thing that the freak wanted revenge more than a degree in biochemistry? The world had changed so why shouldn't he?

"I don't want to talk about it," was all that he managed to chew out in response. He didn't want to talk about it in the least.

"We all miss Jimmy," Hal began to console the obviously pained minor not realizing the full effect of his words. How could he miss Jimmy? Was he the one the young teen had spent a majority of his time with? Was he the one who had gradually eased out the stories of his past? Was he the one who had seen him break down and cry every once and awhile when things got to be too much? The crystal eyed boy hadn't a family member left, there was no one left to care about it, let alone miss him. Aside from a few select fighters, particularly Weaver and Ben, no one had paid much attention to the absence that had brought such an ache to Ben Mason's heart. It was his fault that anyone, if anyone, missed Jimmy at all. "But you gotta find a way to put that behind you."

And just forget about him? A scoff caught itself in Ben's throat and the pattering of feet in the background was heard but didn't quite register. Before Ben had a chance to reply to his brother insensitive attempts at solace the loud rumble of the bikes erupted and the two teens turned around just in time to see the shapes of what appeared to be kids around Hal's age take off with their way back to camp.

"Hey!" Hal shouted futility, springing to his feet and sprinting after the thieves. "Those are our bikes!" He threw a piece of rubble in their direction more out of spite than hopes of stopping them. "Can you believe that? Where the hell did they come from?" he was breathless and his cheeks flushed pink from the chilled air. "We're not going back to camp without those bikes."

Ben had focused his eyes on the fallen leaves and rock beneath the soles of his hiking boots. The whispering static of the skitters nearby crescendo as his senses sharpened and as he shut his eye lids over the sage irises his sense of sound became so entirely acute that he could hear the flapping of a bird's wings two miles away if he concentrated. He had no problem honing in on the borderline deafening roar of the bikes.

"They're headed east," Ben answered his brother's unasked question and did his best to mask the hurt that followed the look he received from him.

"How do you know?"

"I can hear their engines," Ben replied with a sardonic smile and subtle shrug. He began to lead the way, again ensuring that his brother would be unable to scrutinize the pain in his eyes. There was no unseeing what Ben had just witnessed behind the blackness of his shut eyes. Allowing his senses to heighten to such a point, he had allowed the nearby skitters to take over, if only for a moment. He had seen a flash of exactly what they had wanted him to. Jimmy had been harnessed in the facility Ben had just been staring at. Behind his shut eyes, he'd seen again the flash of haunting pain that crossed the crystalline eyes of Jimmy Boland's eyes before they went indefinitely blank.

**AN**: Hey did you guys miss me? Well Merry Christmas to all! I know I don't have a lot of time, talent, or patience to update as frequently as I wish I did. Part of it is because sometimes I'm as uninspired and uncreative as a rock. Part of it is because I don't have the attention span to sit down and write. A lot of it is I just don't have the time with all of the school work that's been smothering me. I didn't proof read the above. I probably will go back and do it late but I was determined to get this boy out to you guys before the end of break. A couple of things to let you know

Ben and Jimmy's friendship can/should be interpreted however way you want it to be. Romantic, platonic, Ben's-crazy-obsessive, whatever the heck you want. (I personally as a hardcore Ben/Jimmy shipper see it as romantic) I intentionally wrote it so that it was up to interpretation, at least at this point. I can't make any guarantees that I will be able to resist the lull of their potential, precious, perfection forever.

This was mostly a rehash of the beginning of Young Bloods from a Ben-ish perspective. I mean, until they find/get Jimmy back it will be sort of like that because of reasons stated above. Those reasons translate into I AM LAZY.

I love you all. Whether you read and thing God I hope she never writes again to those who think I'll be famous one day (I wish) and I wish you all a safe holiday season.


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